


Good Snake Bad Snake

by gladheonsleeps



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Amelia Bones, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, But he blackmails them into it and so it kind of defeats the purpose, Detective Crookshanks on the Prowl, F/F, F/M, Fillies Flitwick is a criminally underrated and underused character, Free elves are happy elves, Harry spotted just wants to be warm and not hungry anymore, Hermione Granger cannot be stopped, M/M, Magical Bonds, Mild Dumbledore Bashing, Percy Weasley treated right, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black and Creature Rights, Regulus Black goduncle, Regulus Black is a Good Brother, Severus Snape is a grouch and blames Regulus every time he has an emotion, Society for Elf Welfare, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Thirsty Remus Lupin, Won't somebody please teach Harry correct broom safety, all my characters are pansexual or bi I can't help it, because at this point it feels wrong not to, but Regulus Black isn't having any of their shit, chronically ill Sirius Black, educated elves, employment for werewolves, healthcare elves, house elves with specialised skills, let's be honest everyone Dumbledore hires is lgbtqia, pureblood customs and politics, pureblood wix have weird ideas about what is normal, what happens when rich and powerful men use their power to help vulnerable kids and people, when Poppy Pomfrey is allowed to do her job Good Things Happen, won't somebody please give Theo Nott a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 03:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladheonsleeps/pseuds/gladheonsleeps
Summary: Albus Dumbledore's hiring habits leave a lot to be desired. Even if the choice of teachers weren't questionable, the methods are.Who would expect a headmaster to use blackmail quite so masterfully to keep his staff quiet about his regular bouts of negligence and ideas that put his students at risk?Thankfully there is one professor who has the heart and the means to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for this fic// AU, non beta'd or Brit-picked and published on a phone; slight Dumbledore bashing; references to child abuse (but not in detail); warning for pureblood mothers wanting their pre-pubescent daughters to catch a husband (meaning the dashingly handsome and rich runes professor. Please note that said professor is not amiable to these goals); rated T for Amelia Bones has great legs and Regulus Black is an allosexual adult (I haven't written any sex scenes yet, but they have a tendency to pop up, so the rating may be subject to change)... I think that's all.
> 
> this is a work of transformative fiction // I do not own Harry Potter etc etc

~~~~There was something that solidified September first into the brains of anyone lucky enough to go to Hogwarts as a child. Even as an adult, Regulus Black found himself waking up early and double checking that everything was ready in his classroom and office for the arrival of the children, and that was even after he had checked everything several times the night before. Regulus was known for never having one hair out of place and being prepared for everything; but that wasn't without its cost.

Thankfully only two people really knew about just how nervous the famous Lord Regulus Black’s constitution was.

He washed and dressed carefully, giving himself a close shave and sitting down to break his fast alone for the last time for the year. His quarters were no longer in the Slytherin dungeons, deep below the lake, they hadn't been since he came back to teach.

The Black lake was however, still within view. The rooms were rather eccentric, their rather tall and thin, multi-levelled configuration was situated low in a tower which meant that the dining and lounge room spaces very much made it seem as though his quarters were a boat or boathouse on the water, the windows were positioned almost precisely over the surface, which was always active, rippling with the wind and brimming with activity of birds hunting fish and all kinds of life on the surface.

Then there was his bedchamber downstairs, which looked out into the topmost layer of the lake. Unlike the Slytherin dorms further down, the window on one curved wall of his bedroom fairly glittered as the sun played on the water, but the chamber was comfortingly dark and familiar at night, allowing him to sleep.

He was grateful for the quarters he had been given. They had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and he enjoyed their position and varied views, as well as the configuration of the rooms which allowed him his privacy, even when he entertained guests.

He was somewhat grateful that he was benefiting from the fact that while Filius Flitwick was the Ravenclaw head, he was very much part goblin and preferred rooms that were mountain bound, deeper within the castle, and had found the activity visible through the large windows the opposite of reassuring.

No it was solid stone walls for the Charms Professor, and Regulus had rooms that befitted his station as Lord Black; something that the Headmaster was surprisingly thingy about.

Regulus enjoyed this morning view of the bustling and busy surface of the lake as he ate his soft boiled eggs with soldiers and drank his coffee.

At twenty nine he was the youngest professor at Hogwarts by the two years that Severus Snape had on him; but he still felt too embarrassed to eat his childhood favourite in the great hall.

It was absolutely a comfort food for him, and Blacks simply didn't show these kinds of comforts or habits to others. Displaying one’s more personal habits was to show one's vulnerabilities, no matter how trite.

Finishing his coffee he smiled his thanks to his beloved elf Kreature and stood to head to the staff room, where Professor Dumbledore and the other staff members would be gathering for their staff day.

As he reached the staircase he met with Severus who gave him a nod, "Good morning Lord Black,” He greeted softly, and Regulus allowed himself a wry smile.

It was hard to be reminded that one was the last of their once massive family, “Good morrow Potions Master Snape,” Severus’ mouth twisted in a bitter smile at the reminder that his own honorific was rarely acknowledged, nor his true talent for the craft of potions. Regulus knew he hated being stuck there in this castle as much as he himself did.

More, probably, as at least Regulus had much to do outside of the castle while Severus was kept too busy within its walls to venture out too often. Not that either man's tendancy towards reclusiveity would let them venture too far, but it was the spirit of the thing.

While Regulus had always wished for a quiet life that living among and teaching raucous children did not engender, he had at least always looked forward to having children of his own, while Severus had been the youngest to earn a Potions Mastership in a good few centuries. He'd been destined for big things, and big things of his own choosing, until he was manipulated into pledging himself first to the Dark Lord, and then to Albus Dumbledore and his rather ominous cause of ‘the greater good’ --Another case for never letting people know one’s weaknesses.

Or even better, not having them at all.

Regulus had been advised by his brother that he could trust the old man, and look where that had landed both of them. Regulus knew that Sirius would never have allowed James and Lily Potter to die if he could help it, let alone be the cause of it; and especially not their one year old child or so many muggles. Sirius loved muggles.

No, Regulus was quite aware he had run straight into a tangled spider’s web just as thoroughly as everyone else had.

At least he wasn't alone.

James and Lily Potter, Sirius, Severus, Marlene, hell, even Minerva seemed to be under the old man’s thumb; for all she was a brilliant educator, some of the ‘decisions’ she made concerning particular student seemed rather out of character. What a way to run a school.

The two young teachers walked in companionable silence together to the staff room where a far too chipper Pomona Sprout poured them each a coffee and pressed a plate of Regulus’ favourite shortbread into his hands. He gave her a warm smile and sat next to her, letting her chatter about the state of the gardens to him and her plans for mandrake roots and wiggenbark crops roll over him. His father had adored herbology, and while Pomona was as far from Orion Black as the moon was from the sun it was a comfort, even if everyone in the room only thought he was being polite.

There was an air of expectation this morning, as the year to come would be punctuated by the attendance of a certain Boy-Who-Lived. Regulus had always been fascinated by the events of that night, the night that changed so much of the world they lived in...the night that had stolen his brother from him even more profoundly than the night his parents had forced him out into the cold.

Not many people knew the hand Regulus had all of it of course, horcruxes weren't the kind of thing one really talked about or ever really acknowledged the existence of; not even in Dark families; except in a whisper as an example of sacrilege and the line one must never cross, a crime against magic Herself. He had already destroyed two sacred artifacts that had been desecrated by the half-blood Tom Riddle’s fractured soul parts, but they knew there were more.

That wasn't the only irregularity in the story as it was told by Dumbledore and his fanatics however--on top of sending an innocent idiot to Azkaban, the idea that a baby ‘killed’ Voldemort was especially unbelievable, and the idea that his ‘mother's love’ alone was what had caused the death of such a being, as Albus liked to suggest, was utterly ludicrous.

No. Lady Potter did something, something Dumbledore didn't approve of and so he had constructed a cover up, but Regulus would only ever give her the credit. It was unfortunate that she was no longer alive to defend her own name (nor to tell an intrigued Regulus Black how she saved her child from an avada), but Regulus at least would remember her brilliance as more than anpretty detail in the story of The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Regulus knew, as someone who was raised on blood purity and all the rest, that the reason everyone banged on about a heroic baby was that they didn't want to give a muggleborn credit. The credit was instead given to the Potter line. Prejudice was so thick within their society that it took more than simply looking at things head on to know what was truly going on. It made Regulus sick. Dumbledore, for all his talk, was just as much a snob as anyone else. In fact as Lord Black he could attest that Dumbledore was sometimes just as much a snob as his own mother, which was honestly saying something.

Nevertheless there was no doubt the child’s presence in the castle for the next seven years heralded a great number of issues because so many people believed in the myth that had been created; not least the man who had invented the myth in the first place. Hopefully he favoured his mother, that was all Regulus thought on the matter.

The rest of the staff trickled in and chatted over cups of tea and coffee, and a little extra something for Sybill, because why wouldn't you drink alcohol on the job so blatantly when your permanency was ensured by the one true prophecy you'd ever given (even if it had lead to the deaths of so many babies). How anyone could look at her without any revulsion or loathing was rather a puzzle to Regulus. The rest of the staff were content to drink their tea or coffee and gossip or make various jokes about the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and who would be dragged out of the woodwork this year.

They didn't have to wait long. Apparently Dumbledore had seen fit to make the already useless muggle studies professor Quirrell the DADA professor this year, which was the worst one yet. Everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore when he beamed, making his announcement as Quirrell belatedly hurried into the room, along with his newly found speech impediment and sporting a massive turban obviously gained on his travels over the summer, and a whole range of talismans and safety charms, ninety five percent of which were useless, and one hundred percent of which were hideous and worst of all, smelling potently of garlic.

The fraud! Everyone knew vampires didn't care at all about garlic! And turbans weren't just a fancy accessory either. They currently had at least six families who were children of parents or grandparents who had immigrated from India in their school, one of which was a lovely muggleborn family who practiced their parents’ religion of Sikhism. Rupinder, a fifth year in Ravenclaw that attended Regulus’ supplementary lessons had started tying a full turban last year, and he and Regulus had had a few conversations about hair care over the years as Regulus had quite a length himself --though he did cut it every once in a while, while Rupinder and his siblings of course did not.

He felt that Quirrell’s choice of headgear was rather gouache and insensitive, and the story he had invented about a prince and a zombie even worse, but though he always endeavoured to learn about the people around him --in particular the children-- it wasn't his place to say anything. He had no relationship with Quirrell to speak of as it was well known Regulus had never approved of the man. If the children showed any distress however, he'd be the first to take action on their behalf.

He knew rumour had it that Regulus didn't approve of muggles or muggleborns, but that simply wasn't true. After defecting from the Death Eaters, Regulus had made a point of learning as much about the world muggleborns came from as he could, and if he was honest he had begun his research sooner still, even if he'd had to hide it at the time.

No matter how hard they tried, his parents hadn't been able to smother all of Sirius’ influence out of Regulus, and Sirius had told him about the muggles visiting the moon before everything fell apart and he ran away, and his imagination had been irretrievably caught.

When Regulus met his first muggleborns at Hogwarts it had been the first thing he'd asked about, not knowing if it had been true or not, and it was the most wondrous thing to a boy who was named after the stars.

One thing that he had noticed, the more he researched and discussed with the muggleborn students, was that Quirrell didn't seem to teach muggle studies accurately at all. Regulus had heard the muggleborns laughing or grouching about it enough that surely Dumbledore had heard it too.

But then his hiring had always been rather...eccentric. Most employers didn't use blackmail in their recruitment strategies after all.

In the end, the new appointment of the DADA Professor every year had little effect on Regulus’ day to day life, and thus would affect him even less.

He would stick to his runes, secret scholarships and supplementary history lessons, and stay as far away from talking about all the unforgivables and other sordid magics that he had been forcefully taught about in practical lessons as a child. Severus of course came from a different perspective. An expert in the field of DADA, his dour friend was smothering his disgust at the new appointment rather well, just as he always did.

Dumbledore moved on to talk about the staff challenges he'd had the Heads and Hagrid working on over the summer. He wasn't sure that keeping them around in the school year was the best idea, as the Griffs never failed to see that kind of thing as an open invitation for mischief. Keeping things like a cerebus or a large devils snare in a school was asking for trouble.

Regulus respolved to be watchful. It never hurt to be careful when the headmaster didn't seem to find children’s safety a priority. As someone who grew up in that kind of atmosphere, Regulus was rather keen to make sure no one else had to.

As the meeting ended and all of the staff began to drift off and prepare for the arrival of the children that night, Regulus braced himself for an eventful year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Hermione's POV)

Hermione Granger was having a rather wonderful year. She had never in a million years thought that magic might be real; and if it was, it happened to other people. She thought magic was fluffy tulle dresses and gossamer wings, silky blonde hair that curled very differently to hers and pale skin and pumpkins; rodents that somehow weren't vermin, and cackling women with tall hats and warts on their nose. It was almost absurd that the only correct thing in all her years of reading stories was that magical people really did fly on broomsticks! Oh, and the hats.

But the reality she had found was far more wonderful. Professor Black had come to visit at the beginning of the summer and told her and her parents all about magic that was measurable and quantifiable; magic that one could learn all about in lessons. He said that some things in magic were ordered and always had the same answer, much like a mathematical equation, and other parts of magic were like language and grammar, where there were strange rules that didn’t quite make sense, but one could learn them all eventually and put them together to form simple things or longer, more complex things.

Hermione’s parents, both being medical practitioners and thus scientists, had both been as fascinated as she had. Her mother had talked about how handsome the man was and she had to agree. He had eyes like silver and long hair in loose curls that he tied with a velvet ribbon like all of the charming princes in her books, but it was when he had written out hieroglyphics with a long elegant wand made of cherry wood and made the table disappear, then turned an apple into an orange, and that orange into a tortoise just like Prospero (the long necked tortoise she already had as a pet) that they had become really excited.

Magic really was real.

They told Professor Black about Hermione’s bad habit of fetching books that were too high on the shelf or somehow stealing spoonfuls of nutella without opening the jar, and Professor Black had smiled at her and said it was because she was especially clever. Hermione had felt the thrill go through her that was only achieved when she earned a teacher’s praise.

She was excited to go to this Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even if it meant she had to leave her beloved parents and Prospero the long necked tortoise at home.

The handsome professor had come back closer to the start of term time after giving them nearly a whole year to read all of the materials he'd left with them in order to get used to the idea. As Hermione's birthday was in September she'd had a longer time to get used to it than most. She knew most of the pamphlets were for her parents, filled with things about how her biology was a little different than theirs; She had an extra organ called her ‘magical core’ with its own systems, and so some things would be different as she went through puberty and grew into her adult body. As her mother had already told her about puberty and the changes she could expect to happen in her body when the time came, she was allowed to read it all.

After so much reading she felt somewhat more prepared to live in this new world and going to Diagon Alley with Professor Black had helped even more.

She met the goblins. They were gruff and rather scary at first, but Professor Black told her they were a proud people from a warrior culture and no one could be more trusted to look after her money. He taught her how to properly greet them, and how to speak to them in order to gain their respect and not offend them. One shouldn't ever show their fear to a goblin, but she had already learned it always paid to be polite, and when she said so, Professor Black had given her that smile again, and she knew she had passed the test. He also helped her set up an account at Gringotts seperate to her parents’ own, and she made her first deposit, entrusting her gold to the experts.

They had treated her with respect as if she wasn't a child, as it was her own money and Hangclaw, her new account manager said he was looking forward to a strong and prosperous working relationship.

Hermione thought she agreed with Professor Black; goblins were fantastic.

She was glad her parents had given her some pocket money, because on top of making her deposit she was able to buy a few extra books that Professor Black thought she would find helpful. One of course, was a primer on goblin culture, and another was a wonderfully in depth compendium on all the other non-human beings in the magical world.

She had also acquired a wand which she adored. She was so glad they weren't pink or adorned by a star, or anything so tacky. Instead her wand was made of elegant vinewood and held a heartstring from a dragon. She had asked what kind of dragon and had been told that it was from an antipodian opaleye, a unique species who lived down in the Southern Hemisphere near New Zealand, and when she looked them up and saw the wondrous moving pictures she found out that they were absolutely beautiful. Of course _all_ dragons were beautiful in their own ways, but the opalescant sheen that the opaleye was named for made them rather unique among their kind.

There were also an abundance of potion ingredients to buy, as well as a couldron and other specialised equipment, much of which were a little more along the lines of what she was used to witches using in muggle fiction. She found it funny that they used cauldrons instead of beakers, but she was excited for potions class as she'd always loved chemistry. She did wonder what the difference in potions would be if she _did_ use beakers, and the professor admitted that some potion makers preferred them when making certain potions, professing that it resulted in a higher quality outcome, and were trying to get the magical hospital to adopt the practice. Otherwise, for the more skilled potioneers, the choice of silver, copper, or even gold cauldrons depended on the ingredients and what reactions one was looking for (or which reactions one was looking to avoid).

For instance the wolfsbane potion was at its best when brewed in a silver cauldron, and as the salve for dragon fire burns needed exposure to real gold, many dragon tamers bought a gold cauldron so that they didn't go through galleons worth of gold each time they made it. Hermione found it all fascinating.

Hermione had asked to read the scientific journal he had referred to in that conversation about using beakers instead of couldrons, but apparently one needed to know far more about potions to be able to understand the language used in the article, and that due to that lack of knowledge, it was best to stick to sealed pewter for now, as the potions professor would want her to prove she was adept in the foundational skills before talking about branching out. Hermione thought that was fair, even if she was still wildly curious.

They got everything done in such good time that Professor Black treated the Grangers to an ice cream. She saw that Professor Black greeted Mr Fortescue with respect and so she did too, and he treated her with an extra scoop of peppermint ice cream.

Mr Fortesque had called the Professor ‘Lord Black’, which made her parents raise their eyebrows with significance, but they liked to be polite, and so they didn't comment. When they had sat down Professor Black admitted that he was indeed from a Noble and Most Ancient House, which was quite a significant family politically and socially.  He had grown serious and said that there were some people in his circles that thought bad things about muggleborns, and didn't want them to learn everything about magic. He said that he taught a supplementary history lesson about the magical world to muggleborns who were able to maintain a high level in their classes so he knew they could handle the extra work. Hermione vowed to do well so that she could learn everything about the world of magic. Professor Black gave her that smile again and said he was confident he would be teaching her soon, and she was determined to prove him right.

He had spent the rest of their time in the ice cream parlour teaching her how to greet people, and how to act at the welcoming feast so that she wouldn't make a faux pas upon her entry into the school, and she was ever so grateful.

That night she had been so exhausted she had fallen asleep at the dinner table and her father carried her up to bed. It was worth it though.

She knew there was much to learn and she was thrilled because she absolutely loved learning. She couldn't wait for school to start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello kittens!
> 
> Hello from house moving hell, I hope your life is currently a little less chaotic then mine, but also I wonder why I always end up posting during times of change like this?
> 
> Just a little note, someone wrote and said that you (the reader) don't know what classes Regulus actually teaches and thought it might have been a big fancy plot point but no, it was in the blurb I scrapped, and apparently it wasnt mentioned in the story so that's my bad!
> 
> Professor Black is the runes professor. As it's an elective, it gives him a lot of spare time to manage the Black estate and various political responsibilities, as well as the things that will be described this chapter.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, I hope you're enjoying it! xx

_Severus_

The children were as ill behaved and raucous as ever as they flooded into the great hall for the welcoming feast, and Severus rolled his eyes at Regulus, who he caught grinning at some of their antics. He became more like his brother every day, though Severus would never say such a thing out loud; it was rather frowned upon to speak so about someone who was locked away in Azkaban indefinitely--though Severus knew that man deserved it, even if the crimes he had actually committed didn't match the ones he had been incarcerated for. Instead, he kept his eyes on his snakes and they settled down under his gaze, finally behaving with the manners and decorum they were raised with rather than those their esteemed headmaster insisted were ‘good enough’.

He watched Regulus out of the corner of his eye. Neither of the ex-Death Eaters had planned on becoming teachers when they started out, but Regulus had taken to it with far more grace than he. The younger man had always been sensitive, both magically and in temperament. He'd suffered tremendously under his parents and the Dark Lord, and had made the wise move so long ago to start healer training early so that he would be required to take certain vows which would prevent him from fighting, instead helping heal the injuries of Death Eaters both made by the other side and those made by the mercurial Dark Lord himself.

In the end, Regulus had built up the courage to defect long before it had ever occurred to Severus as an option; and had executed his plan of escape while Severus fucked up everything good in his life and became little more than a tool of Dumbledore. Regulus was stuck here too of course, though as Lord Black he had a little more freedom, and because Dumbledore was such a cunt, he insisted Severus take on the nurturing position of Slytherin Head of House instead of Regulus, who would be so very good in such a role. Albus said he had his reasons, but Severus knew it was just a power play, a means to twist the knife for them both.

Regulus had always had a natural grace and integrity in spades, and that didn't go away just because a certain Headmaster tried to keep him under his purple suede high heeled boot. So instead of caring for the Slytherin children alone, Regulus took on many financial burdens of caring for all of the students, and used his extra time to cultivate the muggleborns and teach them about their world so that Severus’ snakes had less to hiss at. It was almost entirely the opposite of Severus’ predecessor’s Slug Club, and not without reason. Regulus truly put in significant effort and care as well as cold hard cash into making sure that the children who he took on did well, and if the first few batches of students to graduate under his steady hand and sponsorship were any indication, it would no doubt go far to making their world a better place. Severus knew they would do well.

Severus could see Regulus’ remaining students, all muggleborns, and all sitting as gracefully and properly as most of the Slytherins and other scions of the sacred twenty eight were --Other than the Weasleys of course. Though admittedly young Percival tried; he had little help from his family, who seemed to think that closing one’s mouth when they ate was tantamount to blood supremacy. Fools. The muggleborns of course didn't sit with the almost fearful rigidity that Regulus and the others had had beaten into them, learned through spells that shocked them anytime they slumped or shrugged, or performed any number of childish behaviours that were deemed unseemly by the upper echelons; but it was a marked difference to those who hadn't made the grades that would get them into his class, (who tended to drop out after their OWLS and go back to the muggle world) and it would mean everything once they went out into the world of adulthood and employment in that prejudiced and patently unfair realm, that of wizarding Britain.

Thankfully Minerva promptly stepped into the room with the year’s crop of tiny and terrified first years. The old hat made its song and they were on with the sorting. People tried to be polite, but there was no question the entire room was waiting to hear one name and one name only--though Severus could see Regulus faithfully taking notes on the various magical signatures of the children while their attention was distracted by the voice in their head. He had told Severus once that the hat drew interesting things from the children's magic that he never saw at other times, so he used the sorting to inform him of the students, particularly the fresh blood. His notes were always shared with the other teachers, especially the House heads, so that they could deal with each child better.

Severus himself knew that he was a better teacher for knowing why certain children never seemed to be able to go through a class without exploding their cauldrons.

“Potter, Hadrian” Minerva called, and he could see her taking in the tiny form and crooked, broken glasses just as Severus was, and he could feel Regulus stiffen next to him.

There were a few every year; children who worked so hard to cover for the sins of their parents or family members; but none of them had expected the great and mighty Harry Potter to be among the number of those abused or neglected. Severus fought the impulse to openly glare at the headmaster, but couldn't resist looking to Regulus who was still the very picture of polite interest, leaning back in his seat with one leg elegantly hooked over the other, his muscles schooled under the famous control of Lord Black; but as he looked to Severus he didn't need to utter the legilimens spell to see the raging storm in his grey eyes.

Severus took a sip of water and a few calming breaths. He need not give in to his wrath; Regulus would be looking into it.

Severus of course had a role to play. He was to be the big and bad bitter ex-Death Eater, spitting hate like venom. He was to rejoin the masked idiots in the case of the Dark Lord’s inevitable return, whenever that may be, and Regulus would be here, watching over the muggleborns and maintaining neutrality as an option for the sons and daughters of Death Eaters who needed to know they had a choice. The two of them spoke about it often enough, dismayed by the fact that after the dust had settled and they looked back both of them could see that they hadn't had as few options as they had thought. They didn't want that for these children, were determined that no child Slytherin or not, would be coerced into fighting the war either under the heavy cruciatus of the Dark Lord nor the legilimens-enabled manipulations of the Light Lord.

Neither of them had any trust in Dumbledore's supposed undauntable goodness, especially not after working in the school, and they were both determined to go about protecting Lily’s child, as well as all the other children (that Albus didn't seem to care for at all) in their own ways.

The feast finally began with Severus’ acquisition of the Zambini heir, and he allowed Minerva to speak at him about all the quidditch games she would be winning in the coming year, though he didn't feel up to much replying and she seemed to understand. Neither of them commented on the long winning streak Slytherin had been enjoying; it was beside the point.

Both of them knew they were really watching the tiny Potter heir looking like he'd never even dreamed of so much food in his life. Over at the Slytherin table his godson Draco Malfoy was already trying Severus’ nerves, proving he should have been sorted in with the lions for all the bragging he liked to carry on with.

After dinner Albus insisted on carrying on in his usual way and practically inviting dunderheaded Gryffindors to explore the third floor where the staff's challenges were situated, even while he pretended to condemn it. He saw his snakes rolling their eyes and agreed with them; though again, young Malfoy had a certain gleam in his eye that matched those in the Griffs’ eyes completely.

It seemed he'd taken after his cousin. Regulus’ brother had been the first Black to ever be sorted into Gryffindor, and was a true reckless idiot indeed. Too bad young Draco hadn't followed Black and gone to the lions to be Minerva’s problem.

There were always a few snakes and lions who were put into the wrong House because the hat saw a very real danger of disinheritance or abuse should they be placed in a House their parents didn't approve of. Severus knew that Regulus should have been put in with the eagles or even the badgers; but if he had stepped out of line after Sirius had been determined to provoke their parents at every opportunity, he would have called punishment upon himself that even his brother didn't deserve.

Severus was relieved when the whole ordeal was over and he only had the Slytherin induction before his responsibilities were over for the evening and he could take off his mask. Seeing Potter in such a state was making him feel things he couldn't afford to let out. His role as a spy meant he had to keep his head. He couldn't afford to fall apart at the slightest reminder of Lily or his own sins --at least not publically.

/

_Regulus_

Free of his official responsibilities for the night, Regulus retired to his rooms after dinner and immediately called Kreature. “What can Kreature do for Young Lord Regulus?”

Regulus sighed, he'd tried to get the old elf to be less formal after his mother’s death but it was either his proper title or ‘Master’, which he found distasteful for a number of reasons; first it was a regular reminder that Regulus was never able to actually get the mastership he had always wished for and, as he disagreed with the outright oppression of house elves rather than a much preferable mutually beneficial partnership on a societal level as well as a personal one, he resigned to be called by his title any time his beloved house elf addressed him.

“We will be entertaining tonight Kreature, we’ll need the scotch for our lovely Minerva, sloe gin for Fileus, Vodka for Severus, gillywater for Pomona; I’ll start with wine, and I'm sure we’ll need firewhiskey as well.”

“Certainly. Shall I bring up some comfort food as well my Young Lord Regulus?”

Regulus couldn't help his smile, “Yes thank you Kreature, pull out the trashiest muggle foods you can find if you would.”

He went to his bedchamber on the floor below in order to freshen up and change out of his formal academic robes into a more comfortable pair of muggle slacks and a navy blue button down shirt with a cable knit jumper in the same colour, and pulled his hair back into a tidy braid.

He sat down and took out his file for the supplementary lessons and moved some of his notes from dinner; a list of the students and what he'd seen in their aura as the hat was speaking to them. Then there was the list of muggleborns with even more in depth notes. He added Hadrian Potter to the second list despite his status as half blood and heir of an Ancient and Noble House, as he had apparently been raised with some truly horrid muggles, and if Regulus was right in his assumption, knew nothing of his true place in the world. However he would need to be smart with this one, he foresaw trouble ahead if he was too obvious in his cultivation of Hadrian Potter, and resolved to figure out ways to subtly smooth his way in the wizarding world without making his self appointed magical guardian too suspicious.

The other notable students had also been in Gryffindor. Longbottom, whom his cousin and her husband and...Regulus’ ex lover had for all intents and purposes orphaned, had a heady and strong aura that spoke of life and growth, but had behaved in an anxious manner. He resolved to watch him closely, feeling a responsibility for his state as Lord Black, though as he was barely eighteen at the time of the incident he could hardly have stopped the Lestranges...and...and Barty...Regulus suppressed all of his tumultuous feelings about Barty and moved on.

Regulus didn't know all that much about the Longbottoms, but knew that young Neville’s great uncle, Lady Augusta Longbottom’s brother was a violent and volatile sort who loved to get into fights. Regulus could remember in his own lifetime at least three separate public duels that the man had initiated, all of which ended badly, and he wondered if Arthur Selwyn was responsible for the boy’s overall nervousness.

The first knock came at eleven PM like clockwork just as it always did every year. Everyone on staff loved to take advantage of Regulus’ liquor cabinet, and he had to admit that he quite enjoyed being someone who was sought out for his company, as well as his booze. He was good at entertaining despite his reputation of shyness, and was the only staff member with his own house elf, and so it was natural that he would be the host (though he made sure their fair share of extra curricular gatherings still took place at the three broomsticks so Rosmerta didn't have his hide). That none of them cared about his status was rather lovely as well. He had earned their trust over the years, and he had earned their friendship, “Fileus welcome, Kreature has pulled out a bottle of your favourite gin for you.”

The half goblin entered, clapping Regulus on the back of his arm in thanks (in lieu of being able to reach his shoulder). The ever spritely and energetic man looked exhausted already, and that started the flood. Eventually all of the Heads were there, bitching about the troublemakers that were already wreaking havoc in their common rooms; but this year they all carried an identical weight of disappointment and regret, as well as a real grief.

Hadrian Potter was clearly a victim of abuse. The perpetrators were muggles; he wouldn't be getting threats of cruciatus, nor the scourgify charm used for a purpose it wasn't designed for, nor any number of the other magical means that Regulus had withstood as a child, but it was clear he had been starved and neglected at the very least. Watching him at the feast had been heartbreaking for Regulus, who had gone many nights without dinner himself in his childhood. The boy’s magic had told an interesting tale as well.

Eventually Regulus asked the question they were all here for, “So...does he qualify for the scholarship?”

They all stilled, each teacher staring into their own glass.

Minerva, the child’s Head of House spoke, “Albus said he'd be safest there. I had watched them for a day, and it was time enough to see they wouldn't be suitable. I advised him against it, but he was adamant. He said he'd be best out of the limelight, that he'd be safer with them but…” she trailed off, staring into the fire but not seeming to see it, “I should have checked back. Eleven years and I never…I trusted him!” she cut off, choking on tears as they flooded from her eyes . Pomona took her hand and patted it in comfort. Regulus was livid. Minerva was a brilliant women and an intimidating agent during the war; Dumbledore should not have ignored her recommendation.

Fileus was looking at him steadily, “What did you see in his magic?” He asked, as Minerva reached out for a wagon wheel and opened the colourful packet with shaking fingers before taking a bite of the chocolate covered cookie. It was known among the Heads that Regulus was magic sensitive and all of the them made use of his gift when they were worried about one of their charges.

“It’s damaged, definitely; wounded, depleted. And there has been at least one seal put on his magical core. There is also terribly dark magic left in his scar that worries me, and not just a small remnant either. Dumbledore should be charged with willful neglect at the very least, but we know that will never happen. I’ll have to get closer to know any more. did you sense any different?”

Goblins didn't see magic like he did necessarily, but they were canny and were able to sense a lot of things humans could not. He shook his head, “I’ll let you know after a few classes, but I do agree with you about the wounding and the block,” Was all he said. His more goblin features were usually subtle, but when he was this angry they really shone through. Goblins were very protective of their young, and wizards often disgusted them for the way they treated their children.

Regulus nodded. “I do think he should be sent to the infirmary for Poppy to have a look at as soon as possible. I'll write a letter to Gringotts on the morrow for the scholarship money. He’ll need a potion regimen for the malnutrition at the very least, and I didn't like the look of those eyeglasses,” He said, and Minerva nodded, happy to have something to do. She was, as ever, a warrior and a woman of action.

“I'll send him to Poppy tomorrow, and I'll find some time to take him to Hogsmeade for some new spectacles. Bless Hagrid, but he doesn't think far outside of the box or Albus’ instructions. I'll bet he was so distracted buying that pretty bird that he forgot about things like underwear and socks,” All of those present snorted.

Everyone got a little into their cups after that, drinking to little Hadrian’s health, and making bets on everything from future allegiances and couples to quidditch positions for the new students. The House Heads all nominated who they thought would be the students who would benefit from Regulus’ class, and agreed to work extra hard to keep Harry above the line so he would qualify.

Eventually they all went off to bed with a gift of sobering potion and hangover cure from Severus, and soon enough it was just the two snakes.

“It's not your fault,” Regulus said, and Severus snorted.

“As if it's not? I'm the reason that boy is an orphan!”

Regulus shook his head, “You were far from the only spy the Dark Lord used, and he never made that much of a fuss about prophecies unless he had confirmation. He would have found out anyway. I know you have regrets and they are your business, but you have already been more than adequately punished for any sins. No, I lay the blame in this case lies firmly on the shoulders on those beastly relatives of his and on Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

Severus sighed and took another swig of fire whiskey.

Regulus took a long sip of his brandy and let it roll on his tongue before he said, “I'll put in for guardianship first thing in the morning. I have everything ready anyway,” Severus didn't reply but there was a loosening of his shoulders, “And I'll contest the sealing of the Potter and Evans Wills again; I would put the entire Lestrange vault on at least Minerva being on there as an option for guardianship after Sirius, Lupin and Pettegrew; Andy and Ted as well. They would have been great parents, and you know they like to keep to themselves, he had no reason to out the boy where he did.”

Severus nodded in agreeance, “Lily would have had me take care of him before she left him with Petunia --and we all know I swore an oath never to be a father.”

Regulus nodded, taking another sip, “I'll resort to kidnapping if I have to,” He said quietly, and Severus finally looked at him.

“You're kidding.”

Regulus shrugged, “It's been a while since a Black caused any drama, and Chateau Noir hasn't had a visit in a while; and I have all kinds of other boltholes if things become dire.”

Severus snorted, “Could you imagine if he just turned up at Beauxbatons one day? Albus would have a fit!” Regulus chuckled, but frowned when Severus added, “Might as well break your brother out while you're at it.”

“I just wish I knew why he was in there in the first place!” He said glumly and Severus gave him another flat look, it was a conversation they'd had so many times it was nothing new.

“Sirius either knows something, or he threw one dark spell too many in front of the wrong people. You know how fanatic they are, and how careful Albus is about His image of ‘the light.’” Regulus nodded, but continued to brood. Severus sighed tiredly, “My bet is that he knows whatever spell Lily used that night, and I'll make it double that it was dark --or you know, ‘dark’ as they define it these days, which could be nearly anything. It's probably from your library.”

“No bet; but if it is from our library he took the book; but that would hardly be new. I've combed through them all looking for exactly that thing, and haven't found it yet,” Regulus said.

There was a silence as they both continued to stare and at the fire and drink their glasses down.

Eventually Severus sighed, “You might want to write to the wolf though,” Regulus looked at him to check if he was joking but he was perfectly sincere. He really was suggesting bringing in his own bogart, “You know Albus will. You'd be better to get there first, and he's qualified for all kinds of uses,” He finished his drink then stood, “I'd better go.Thank you once again for the hospitality my friend.”

“Darling,” Regulus drawled, “Pleasure’s all mine. Send me a list of ingredients you'll need for the potions. I’ll send off the order as soon as I receive your word.”

After Severus left, Regulus sat at his desk and began his correspondence. He wrote to the goblin in charge of his accounts at Gringotts, Roughfang, and his lawyer, as well as a few friends and acquaintances who might know the whereabouts of a certain werewolf. Things had to be rather dire for him these days with the way Malfoy and that horrible Umbridge woman were hammering the subject in the wizengamot. Regulus was sure he could think of a job or two that the admittedly brilliant Remus Lupin would be qualified for if he had any rights.

Thinking on the subject made Regulus regret that it hadn't occurred to him sooner. He was sure having a werewolf in his employ could prove to turn out quite useful. Salazar knew he had his differences with the man but that was no reason to ignore such opportunities.

He still had so much to learn.

Finishing up he called his elf who had been quietly straightening up his quarters after his colleagues had left, “Thank you; I would like you to find Hadrian Potter and audit his belongings; let me know if he's missing anything from the usual list. And, actually I’d like you to check that young Weasley’s belongings as well. I recall his brothers all benefitting from a partial scholarship during their time here.”

The elf nodded. “Yes my Lord.” Regulus smiled.

“Thank you Kreature.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermone, Harry, Severus

  
_Hermione_

Hermione was finding Hogwarts endlessly wonderful and wildly disappointing at the same time. She'd been marked as a muggleborn nearly as soon as she stepped onto the train, and it hadn't made things easy for her. She was ever so grateful she'd had prior warning or it could have been even worse.

She'd read through all of the material she had bought with Professor Black of course, but reading could never replace full immersion in any culture, let alone one she hadn't even known the existence of a year ago.

She had also been marked as a know-it-all with ‘messy’ hair and big teeth, but that was a sting that was a little more familiar. She'd always struggled making friends, but she'd hoped...well she'd hoped she would find someone here. She only really needed one friend, that was all.

Her roommates were alright she supposed, but two of them had already been friends since they were babies and were always in their own little world. And Lavender and Parvati, the two other girls, were two peas in a pod and while Hermione was truly happy for them that they had found one another, they unfortunately didn't really have anything in common with _her_. Even their opinions on classes and teachers were different. The girls had been excited when she had mentioned that she had been visited by Professor Black, but they had been less than impressed about her fascinating foray into goblin culture and more interested in how handsome he was.

And even Hermione could see that he was handsome; he was positively _dreamy_. He looked like Prince Charming and carried himself like Mr Darcy. Hermione thought he might be rather shy like Mr Darcy too, but she was more interested right now in his generosity with information that others in this world were rather stingy about, just as he had warned her they would be.

Ronald, one of the boys from their year had said that Professor Black was a Death Eater, which sounded like a biker gang. She had told him so and Dean, another boy from their year had laughed and agreed. He was black like her, and a muggleborn too, and they had a partial alliance because of that, but unfortunately all he cared about right now were football and a new-found discovery of its wizarding equivalent, quidditch.

Hermione resolved to simply try her best. Learning was her priority after all, and when she was lonely she could always turn to the best friend she'd always had, the library.

Hogwarts library was absolutely marvellous, and Hermione was already heartily digging in. She only had seven years to enjoy it after all. She had seen another boy there a lot, but he was wearing green, and Hermione knew enough at this early stage to know that as a muggleborn she should tread carefully there. Nevertheless, she found solace in the fact that there was someone else who regularly seeked out the comfort of a good book when they needed to.

Sometimes she saw him watching her, and she hoped he found comfort in this too.

That was almost like friends, wasn't it?

...

_Harry_

Harry had been having a wonderful time at Hogwarts, though he still felt like at some point he would wake up and it will have all been a dream. it was like the stories in the books he had pinched from Dudley’s second bedroom or read in the public library, where the main character finds out they were royalty. That was exactly what it felt like.

He had enough food to eat; more than enough. and no one even cared if he had bacon for breakfast every day! And he didn't have to pretend to be stupid for Dudley in class either, though he found that hard to remember.

He loved transfiguration. At first when he'd seen Professor McGonagall he'd thought she was scary but as soon as he found out she was a cat, well that explained everything. Cats weren’t _like_ other people. You had to treat them politely, and give them space, and then they decided if they liked you or not. It was the same with snakes.

Speaking of snakes, Harry wondered if the Slytherins were really as bad as Ron said they were. He seemed to think there were 'dark wizards' waiting around every corner! It seemed to Harry a little like the fibs Aunty Tuney and Vernon had said about Harry; that he was a _troublemaker_ and a _liar_ and a _picky eater_ , so he would wait to find out if the things Ron said about Slytherins were true.

That Malfoy really was a bully though.

 _But so was Ron sometimes_. Harry had seen two girls crying because of him already, and Neville wasn't far off sometimes. Harry got the feeling that Neville wasn't allowed to cry, like Harry wasn't; though he didn't think it was for the same reason. Harry wasn't supposed to have feelings or make any noise that would disturb his uncle while he was watching the news, but Neville was a pureblood, and somewhat like a prince, from what Hermione had told him. She'd found out that in the library, saying it was like stepping into a different country with a whole new political system that they had to learn. He wasn't really interested of course until she said that the rules were different too, which made Harry nervous, because he didn't want people to think he was a trouble maker just because he didn't know the rules! She also said that wizards don't even give a tosh about the Queen! Harry wasn't sure if that was true. The royal family seemed to be all that Aunt Tuney cared about; she had their portraits in her lounge room and bought a commemorative plate when prince Charles got married.

Harry didn't know what to think. He decided to act like a private eye or a spy like in more of those books he'd stolen from Dudley. He'd accumulate facts, and work out what to think when he had more clues.

  
_Severus_

Severus finished brewing the potions for the second round of little Hadrian’s nutritional regimen (Hadrian was his given name, and as far as he and Regulus were concerned ‘Harry Potter’ was a promotional schtick invented by Albus Dumbledore as a relatable boy hero of storybook, and the mythology of the Boy-Who-Lived. As such they'd decided to treat the boy as a human child who had much to learn and needed some steadying influences. And of course it fell to them to do such, as being in Gryffindor was going to get him into rather a lot of bad habits if he was left to it).

The young boy was just the same as as any other eleven year old and often forgot to take his medicine, and so Minerva had made the rather brilliant decision to call in Percival Weasley to deliver them to him at every meal and stand over him while he took it before he was distracted by bacon.

The young prefect channeled his mother, which was of course pointed out by his younger brothers, and which of course he found completely mortifying, but there he was. It was effective, and despite such a disruption at every meal as the Weasley clan entertained their whole table with their nonsense over it all, the boy was finally putting on weight and he had lost that concerning pallor to his skin. His cheeks were rosy as they should be, and his eyes were clear. His hair was beginning to look less dull, though Severus knew it would always be hopelessly messy unless Hadrian used his grandfather’s ridiculous potion ‘Sleekeazy's’, which had been initially invented to tame the famously untameable Potter locks.

Hadrian also seemed to be better able to _think_ in class and follow instructions, which meant he was less than likely to be a dunderhead; though admittedly that had never stopped his father.

Severus admitted that he would have dismissed him as a troublemaker in his classes just like the unruly Weasley boy who seemed to have adopted him, but the other Heads and Regulus had reminded him more than once that hungry children were impacted in their behaviour, their ability to listen, and their memories were also affected.

And then there was the fact that the child was almost afraid to be seen excelling in class. Both of his parents had been inarguably brilliant; James Potter had been a brat and hadn’t needed to apply himself at all to coast along through school with O’s and E’s, only ever taking quidditch seriously, and many had been quite shocked when he hadn't followed his dreams to join the national league and had instead become an auror. The fact that he easily passed the notoriously difficult entry exam to the training academy after taking it on a whim showed just how capable he really was, and the injustice of it galled Severus to this day.

Lily of course had been both brilliant and had the same muggle middle class work ethic that the young Miss Granger was showing this year, which meant that she had excelled in absolutely every class, even the ones she hadn't favoured, but once she was out of school had a hard time finding work due to her blood status.

Of course Albus could have helped had he wanted to, but he'd thought nothing of allowing Lily's brilliance to languish in the life of a housewife and mother, a career that certainly shouldn't have been quite as hazardous as it had turned out to be.

Regulus had of course hired someone to look into the boy’s previous records at his old schools and there was a pattern in his grades; and judging by the way Petunia and her horrible husband treated their son, it could be concluded that Harry had always been actively discouraged from gaining grades that were better than his cousin’s poor showing, or if he gained any positive attention from their teachers at all. There were also very telling absences from school in the early days that had come after he'd received a better report card than his cousin. Of course in later years he'd clearly worked to keep his own grades below what they rightfully should have been. Some of his teachers noticed the discrepancy, but their interest had always dimmed and the disappeared entirely, showing that either the muggle system had frightfully plentiful holes, or that there had been magical tampering, which was gravely concerning. Of course it was likely a case of both.

That the cousin was clearly dyslexic seemed to have been missed somewhere on top of all the rest, and Regulus, again proving how truly caring and thorough he was, had put some wheels in motion to see if that child was actually safe with such monsters as his parents. Time would tell, and perhaps that boy too would be saved from Lily’s hateful sister. How anyone so bitter and cruel could have come from the same childhood that had created Lily was anyone’s guess.

The fact that having young Dudley Dursley taken away by social services was the ultimate revenge on the abusive muggles was secondary in Regulus’ mind, but Severus was finding it a delicious notion. They of course had to wait to move on that front until Harry was out of danger or that horrible beast of a man would in all likelihood kill the boy.

Regulus had no doubt revolutionised Lily’s child’s life. Apparently he’d only ever had his eyes checked once in eleven years despite the wonders of public welfare, and with his new top of the line magical spectacles he no longer squinted and seemed much more engaged with his surroundings; though something in his manner did make Severus wonder if he was also magic sensitive. He seemed to simply shut down when the classroom got too unruly, or the potion fumes were too thick, and also inevitably when Mr Longbottom blew up his cauldron.

Of course that was only in the lab, however Filus and Minerva reported that he also grew overstimulated when they'd had a double practical lesson; the more powerful the charm or spell the children were practicing, the greater the likelihood that Harry would feel poorly sometime in the second half of the lesson. Quirrelous’ classroom reportedly left him headachy and irritable no matter whether the lesson was theory or practical.

Sighing and brushing problems that weren’t his aside, he stood and poured the potion into vials, labelling each one before packaging them and cleaning his lab before locking up and taking them up to Minerva. She could worry about the children. His own calcified heart wasn’t any good to anyone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Regulus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another warning that views held by certain pureblood parties and the clumsy assumptions of children playacting as adults are not the views held by the author or even other characters, namely Regulus Black.

Pansy was absolutely thrilled. She had only been at school a month and she had already been invited to Lord Black's office for tea.

Well, the note didn't expressly _say_ that it was for tea but they were civilized people, and the meeting had been for four o'clock on a Sunday, so it went without saying.

Her mother had told her all about how absolutely dreamy the professor had been in school, and she had not been lying. He was the perfect example of a fine pureblood gentleman. It was hard to ignore him in any room he walked into, and yet he never called attention toward himself in any way. He had the type of bearing and grace that simply screamed sacred twenty eight. As someone from those circles herself she had been told in no uncertain terms that though he was older than her by twenty years he was yet unmarried and as such he was fair game.

He was after all _far_ better than Draco and Theo were, though they were a far sight better than the...others.

Everything was to be the height of propriety of course, but it was possible that after she had grown up and graduated he might take an interest in her. That he was seeking her out already meant that his mother had been right.

She had made sure to change into a lovely set of tea robes and fixed her hair, choosing a demure diamond hair clip that wasn't too flashy; it was just tea after all. She had done her best and now she stood outside his door at the correct time. Not too early, not too late (even though a pureblood princess was never late, it was polite to respect the time specified on an invitation from a Black or Malfoy) she took one more calming breath and knocked lightly on the door.

Lord Black opened the door and smiled, "Miss Parkinson, right on time," he said warmly and she almost melted at the sound of his voice. He truly was perfect. She hadn't intended to take runes when the time came to choose electives, but now knew she had to.

"Thank you sir," she said, making sure to keep her back straight and her head tilted just so, but her confidence was completely shattered when she saw who else was in the room ahead of her, already sipping her own cup of tea.

She snapped her mouth shut, knowing it was a hideous habit to gape at people but really! "Granger, what a surprise!" she said, hoping her tone was pleasant enough.

"Good afternoon Parkinson." she responded, her own lower tones perfectly calm and poised.

"Oh, you know one another. Excellent," Lord Black said with a smile and after waiting for a shaky Pansy to sit, folded himself elegantly into a blue velvet arm chair. If only every office of the faculty was so comfortable. He set about serving her tea, asking how she took it (black with a twist of lemon. She would of course prefer sugar and milk but her mother insisted) and then gazed at the two girls, taking in their stiff postures and the brooding silence between them and small frown lines appeared between his full eyebrows, "I invited you both here today to see if you would like to participate in a small, mutually beneficial exchange of information. Miss Parkinson knows much about being a young lady in our wizarding world and Miss Granger knows much about being a young lady in the muggle world, which our world has been reflecting more and more of as muggleborns take their place in society-" I'm sorry was something wrong Miss Parkinson? Not enough lemon in the tea?"

Pansy swallowed thickly, she had failed to keep her thoughts private like she'd been taught. She hastened to erect her occlumency walls but struggled in the face of his proposal. But seriously, " _An exchange of information? What could this messy, buck-toothed mudblood have to teach me? I'd heard that Lord Black had a little mudblood charity running but you can't seriously think-"_

"That will be quite enough Miss Parkinson," Lord Black's famous grey eyes had frosted over. Oh no; he hadn't even uttered Legilimens, Did he cast it silently? did he read it all in her mind so clearly? The handsome Professor gave her a sad, disappointed smile, "Miss Parkinson I'm afraid you said all of that out loud," he said flatly, his opinion on her behaviour clear in his icy tone. She swallowed, her eyes on her knees.

"Oh. I'm sorry," her voice was small. Her face burned and her eyes stung. She had failed. He hated her. He'd never marry her now.

"Hmn no, I'm afraid it is _I_ that is sorry." he stood and strode to his desk, taking out a quill and writing something on his stationary before casting the blotting charm and rolling the parchment, sealing it with his own seal on his ring. "I want you to take this immediately to Professor Snape, and when he's done with you, you will set about writing Miss Granger an apology -I'm sure you know how- and think about some of the things you will miss out on learning about because of your small minded prejudice. Now, if you please," he motioned to the door. Face stinging, she rose and placed the china cup carefully on the table before taking the proffered scroll, curtsying as propriety dictated, and exited the room.

She heard him apologising to the mudblood brat before the door was firmly closed and she was left to go seek out her surly Head of House.

The cool of the lower levels soothed her hot cheeks but the tears refused to be stemmed as she made her way down to the dungeons. She found her Head's office entrance and knocked on the door timidly.

Professor Snape called for her to enter, and as she did as she was bid, she realised her hands were shaking. He didn't look up from the paper he was marking, only telling her to sit in a chair that was as stiff and uncomfortable as Lord Black's had been luxurious.

Eventually he finished whatever he was writing and looked up, placing his quill down on the desk, "And what has you in such a state Miss Parkinson?" The burn in her cheeks intensified as she offered him the scroll, not trusting her voice not to shake.

He took it, not remarking on her silence, and his expression held a small amused smile for the scantest second before it was gone, replaced by his famous occluded mask, "Care to explain yourself, Miss Parkinson?" he asked and she swallowed again and shook her head. "Right," He rose, motioning for her to do the same, and moved toward a door that was all but hidden in the shadow of a shelf. She followed him into the Slytherin common room, and the general relaxed air in the room stilled as people noticed the tall and thin form of their Head in the doorway.

Alexandra Warrington was the one to speak, "May I help you, Professor Snape sir?" she asked. Pansy envied her clear, strong voice in the face of such an intimidating presence.

The professor nodded, "Make sure everyone is here and accounted for if you would Miss Warrington. Miss Parkinson, _sit_ ," he said, and directed her to a carved wooden footrest nearest to where he stood, practically at his feet. She channelled all of her poise and grace as the pureblood princess she was and sat where he indicated, her knees together and to the side, ignoring all of the eyes that had crept to her, for all Slytherins didn't stare.

In the older students there was an air of resigned knowing, along with weighty feeling of ' _better you than me_ '.

When he felt that all were present and he had everyone's attention, Snape began. "It _seems_ that among us there are those who feel as though they have no need of further education, despite their current residence here in a _school_.

"They are already perfect, wholly formed little witches and wizards in no need of guidance or correction.

" _Perhaps_ they think that because they have the correct parents that they have nothing to learn, that they naturally hold the knowledge of Merlin himself and are able to simply exist without absorbing an ounce more knowledge in their entire lifetime?

"Or is it their status that determines their lackadaisical attitude? They hold a fixed place in society that cannot be budged or moved no matter what happens around them; a seat on the wizengamot, so that they dictate their wishes on this world and nothing can dictate to them?

"So then;" he flicked his eyes down to Pansy, who was frozen in place by this lazy glance, "Do you already know every line and nuance of the law? Can you tell me, Miss Parkinson, will you be the one writing every word of the bills you will wish to pass? Will you be looking up every source in research? Flicking through fifty tomes in order to get even one sentence correct lest it be rejected by a panel of your peers? Will you be the one tending to every cauldron in your father's business or counting every coin? Who, Miss Parkinson is to be working on the farms for those ingredients or picking the fruit of such labor? Does young Mr Nott plan to be picking every grape so that his staff of elves can make his wine? Pruning every vine? Charming every crop during the frosts and personally chasing off every creature that comes to steal away the crop? Or will Miss Greengrass be personally feeding and raising the dragons and other creatures on all of the farms in all seven countries her family owns land in?

"We live in a thriving and rich society. It is diverse, and despite rather dire recent circumstances it is _alive_. We were at war so little time ago, and then a time before that, and then a time before _that_ , but we are still here. We have _survived_ these wars, but we have not made it through unscathed or unchanged. And, without an influx of new bodies, we would have no one left to make laws _for_.

" _Every single student_ in this school has been chosen for their potential. Every student here has a future and a place in our society. Every single one.

"So then, what will happen if you make enemies of a percentage of that society? Is your talent for divination so strong? Is there somehow a link to the Mckinnons in your past that has you telling the future to that degree of certainty? How do you know at the age of _eleven_ what role they will all take up in our world?

"Perhaps a muggleborn will be the next to invent a cure for dragon pox?" his eyes rested weightily on Draco who swallowed thickly, his eyes looking down to hide the pain Pansy knew was triggered at the mention of the disease that took his grandfather from him,"Perhaps a muggleborn will be the one with the knowledge to aid you in a complicated pregnancy or birth and save your heir.

"Perhaps a muggleborn will be the one to defend you in court, or file your Will, or catch the error that will save you millions….Perhaps a blood-traitor will catch a curse before it kills you…Perhaps a _half-blood_ will be your children's Head of House…" he glared around the room, daring anyone to comment on his own blood status.

Everyone knew Snape had been a favoured servant of the Dark Lord and as such he had the greatest of respect from his charges. Pansy looked at her knees, unable to look him in the eye.

" _Let me be clear_ ," he said, tone dangerously quiet, "-I only say this once per year so listen well- If I hear that the word 'mudblood' has been uttered by any of you, you will be punished to the greatest extent of _this_ half-blood's powers, which at this moment are far more potent than _yours_. You _do not_ want to test my ire.

"You may have personal _opinions_ , but that is no one else's problem but your own. We are _Slytherins_ and we don't go about using slurs or any other crass language and other vulgarities in the halls of this illustrious establishment. _Prove_ yourself worthy of the green on your robes; If you have a _personal_ issue with someone, there are other ways to communicate your feelings- especially in a way that won't make them despise you for _life_. If it is respect you want, then you might wish to _act_ like you are worthy of your position in this House, rather than using gutter talk and acting uncouth. Am I understood?" the room stirred with movement as every student nodded their understanding.

After a small pause he continued, his baritone voice smooth and soft and absolutely terrifying, "I advise you all to take note of the muggleborn students that Lord Black hand picks for cultivation," Pansy's thoughts went back to the bushy haired Granger, sitting properly and drinking tea with faultless posture, "He is a busy man, and he doesn't make a habit of wasting his time or acting for the sake of appearances. Those he chooses will end up going far and I would suggest," he glared at Pansy and she suppressed a whimper, "That you do _not_ make an enemy out of any of them.

"On top of this -and it should go without saying, but apparently we need to be spoon fed today- many of these students earn unofficial and sometimes even formal protection of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Are you prepared to earn the ire of such a House? Will your parents appreciate having to apologise for your behaviour?" his tone was so ominous that Pansy had to wonder what he _knew_ , "Miss Parkinson I believe you have an apology to write. Dismissed."

The tension in the room suddenly disappeared and there was a collective breath as their Head swept from the room.

Pansy didn't meet anyone's eyes as she hastened to her dorm and pulled her stationary out. She thought for a moment of using her worst parchment, but Professor Snape's last statement was still ringing in her ears. No. she had to do this properly. The Parkinsons were sacred twenty eight but they were in the lower rankings of that group. Her father was already going to be furious.

She had no doubt that certain parties in the Slytherin common room were already writing home. She took a deep steadying breath so that her hand wouldn't shake when she tried to write. She couldn't take back the last hour, but she would endeavour to mitigate the damage before it could become too much larger. Professor Snape was right; she could not afford to make an enemy of Lord Black or his allies, and neither could her father.

She hoped this wouldn't haunt her for too long. Dinner was bound to be horrible!

...

Regulus looked down at the little muggleborn he had marked out as a favourite already in the new year group. He tried not to have favourites, but some always managed to slip through anyway, and Hermione Granger had amused him and tugged on his own academic leanings from their first meeting.

She was like a sponge for information, and had a formidable memory. She was able to quote whole passages from books, which some of the professors were finding frustrating in the classroom, but once she learned how to use the stored memories in a practical sense, she would be a formidable witch. Her magic was also fresh and lively and very powerful, and Regulus often found himself relaxing after a few minutes in the child's presence, which was highly unusual for a child this age.

He had decided to take her on much more earlier than usual, thinking that they could very possibly be looking at a future Minister for Magic or a breakthrough researcher in the Department of Mysteries, the existence of which had her extremely excited. The dear girl wanted to know if Hogwarts ever had an excursion to visit. He smiled wickedly and told her he'd bring up her suggestion in the next faculty meeting. He was looking forward to seeing Minerva's appalled reaction.

It had of course been Miss Granger's reaction to meeting her first goblins that had endeared her to him originally. She had been sincerely excited to meet a being so wholly alien to her, and yet treated them with the respect befitting any other adult. She'd been thrilled to open her own account and meet her own account manager, who Regulus made sure was someone of the right caliber for a witch of her potential.

He had of course slipped a few extra galleons on top of her deposit (her birthday money, given to her early due to her move to Scotland before it occurred), happy to invest in this child from the onset. She would be going far and he intended to watch her rise.

It was, however, her reaction to the plight of house elves had sealed her in Regulus' affections. He'd introduced her to Kreature soon after school had begun, and had been heartened by her respect of him and her interest in house elf culture. They of course hadn't been in the Magical Beasts and Beings Almanac he'd advised for her, there weren't in fact any books on the subject of house elves, but bless her heart, the girl had asked Regulus when he'd be publishing his own. He'd been shocked into a blush!

They'd ended up speaking about the nature of house elf bondage, and she'd been wrapped up in offended sensibilities and determined bluster and he'd barely been able to stop her from charging the kitchens and handing all the elves knitted hats.

Instead they'd planned to take tea in said kitchens another day, and she could get to know some elves, and eventually learn their opinions on things. Regulus had cautioned her to play a long game; she'd be better situated once she'd graduated to help him make changes. She'd solidly agreed, unknowingly making a soft vow to help him change things for house elves. He'd been quite touched. Magic knew the heart after all.

Which all went to explain the personal nature of the offence that he had taken to the insult Miss Parkinson had made to his new favourite. He understood from her mother that Hermione had already been faced with a certain amount of prejudice even at her early age from the colour of her skin (much as Severus found with his Jewish ancestry in the muggle world, as he understood it), and it grieved Regulus that he had once been a perpetrator of the very same prejudice that Miss Parkinson had just displayed so tactlessly. Even so he didn't think he'd ever seen the kind of grace the young lady had exhibited while she was being insulted and afterwards.

He suspected her mother, the lovely Helen Granger, a beautiful and brilliant muggle he had truly felt privileged to meet had been the one to teach her such grace. When he had apologised for his failure of a meeting Hermione had quietly said, "Many people in this life will try to feed you poison Professor Black, but that doesn't mean you have to drink it," Her voice had quaked a little, showing that she truly had been hurt by Parkinson's vile words, and it affected him greatly.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her words since.

He and Kreature both still suffered the aftereffects from the horrific Potion of Despair that had stood between them and the horcrux in the Dark Lord's cave, but that wasn't what the little girl meant. How often had Regulus willingly 'drunk poison' in order to smooth the way and make things easier for his parents? And then even worse, the Dark Lord? Long after little Hermione had left his office he had sat, staring at his cold tea, even after the sun had gone down he still pondered why on earth had he had ever wanted to make things easier with the Dark Lord Voldemort? How had he thought that was the safest course of action? how many had suffered because of his actions -and even greater still, his inactions?

He had spent a great many years atoning for this, but he once again vowed to redouble his efforts to make changes where he could in his world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to reiterate that regulus' understanding of racial tensions (the plight of black and Jewish muggles being the same when both situations are complex and different and don't benefit from sweeping one liners or throwaway comparisons) and his own ideas on various aggressions and bigoted views from his privileged position are still very much under construction for him, just as they are for me. 
> 
> I'm also pretty sure the line about 'drinking poison' is a quote that's floating around in my faulty memory but I can't find it and I have no idea where I heardit or read it, sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi kittens! 
> 
> This is a story I began writing before Raised by Giants. In fact it was one of the first HP fics I started and so it's good to finally begin to publish it! I wanted to wait till I'd at least figured out a resolution so it didn't sit unfinished (like some other fics we won't mention) and last night it all clicked together, so yay! I'' finally posting! 
> 
> As with most of my fics it started as a question. I saw a few fics where Regulus Black takes the place of Severus Snape as the Death eater spy at Hogwarts, but I hadn't yet seen any with them both at Hogwarts, and I wanted to explore what that dynamic might be like. 
> 
> {Since then I have seen that LullabyKnell has a wonderful story called In The Name of the Brave, which has Regulus as an utter dreamboat of a potions professor, and Severus as the department head. That whole fic is really lovely in the way my favourite fics always are and I always want to achieve; it's atmospheric and dreamlike, with really indepth worldbuilding (or in this instance castle building) and a brilliant fic to read when you're feeling anxious. The chapter where she describes the herbology greenhouses alone are worth checking it out. I swear I cried just reading that bit}
> 
> This fic started out with a different dynamic, I sort of wanted them to be a bitchy gay couple, but then it became a bit of a kid fic, and reg and sev were platonic while Regulus slowly started to fall for Regent Bones, and I'm not sorry. (If anyone wants to write a fic where ref and sev are a bitchy gay couple by all means please do and let me know when you post it!) Little Hermione stole my heart, as did little Harry, and actually this is the first kid fic I've ever written, which is huge for me due to some of my own issues, and it was really healing for me to start this and found family is so powerful and lovely and so I'm happy where it all lead. 
> 
> As usual this is totally an AU and I am quite aware that my writing is self indulgiant and inaccurate, thank you, but you don't need to tell me. I'm definitely the type of fic writer who writes to soothe my own soul and scratch certain brain itches rather than catering to the readers' whims and wishes; but enough readers have told me that my imaginings are very dreamlike and soothing to them too, and so I keep publishing.
> 
> I'll also note that I am disabled, so posting happens intermittently; my brain is an actual sandwhich and don't have a beta --and even worse I wrote this and published it on my phone as I haven't yet built up the courage to actually go to a library to post fanfic on their desktops, so I'm so sorry about any outstanding mistakes but I've done my best. I edit these things like a thousand times but there are always things that get missed.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be, so we'll just see how we go.


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